That's What Friends Are For
by Clecky
Summary: Post X2. Scott and Logan were never friends. Ever.


Author's note: Post X2. One way Scott might react to Jean's death. If anyone notices anywhere that I messed up the characterization, please tell me. I need all the help I can get.

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"You know, kid, I think you might be a little too uptight."

Scott surfaced from his breakfast briefly and turned slowly to stare at Logan.

"No, really. I think you need to relax." Logan waved a hand expansively, nearly knocking over the pitcher of orange juice. "It's unhealthy to be so- tense."

Scott stared at him blankly for a few seconds, then (with the air of someone dropping a problem too difficult to handle) he looked back at his plate and began eating again.

"So I arranged a vacation for you," Logan continued, determinedly cheerful. Scott choked on his cornflakes. "You need to get out, see the world, have some fun- where're you going?" He called after Scott's retreating back.

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"I just think he needs to get away, Wheels." Logan protested. "I know that if you locked me up in this school all the time, I'd be crazy in a week, tops."

"You mean you aren't already?" Scott muttered from beside the bookshelves. He'd stopped looking anyone in the face and had increased his bubble of inviolable personal space to at least a yard for good friends and more than that to people he didn't like anyway. The faint, tiny spark of humor was more emotion than he'd shown in weeks.

"You wanna go, Boy Scout?" Logan snarled.

"Sure." Scott (presumably) met Logan's eyes; his face, expression, even his scent gave nothing away.

"Really?" Logan asked, and smiled a fierce, predator's smile. "Finally. I'll even handicap, if you like."

Scott cut off Xavier's protests. "It won't be necessary. When and where?"

"How 'bout right now? Danger Room, it locks from the inside and I don't want any of the kids wandering in when we're at it."

"Okay." Scott stood casually, hands in his pockets, and followed Logan to the elevator. Xavier sighed and headed down to the infirmary. He was sure that at least one of them would need advanced medical care before the day was out. Too bad Scott had let Logan push him this far, but he honestly couldn't blame the young man.

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"I hope you don't mind if I use you like a punching bag," Scott said blandly. Logan was beginning to suspect that either the other man was so repressed that he could no longer show any emotion or that he was a hell of an actor and should be on Broadway.

"Shut up and fight, kid." Logan was prowling the corners of the room, senses on high alert and anticipation flowing. He needed to fight someone, anyone... hopefully Scott did too. Unfortunately Logan would have to remember that Scott didn't heal as fast as he did and didn't deserve-

"Ow!" Logan clapped a hand to his jaw. "You hit me!"

"Quit thinking and fight!" Scott snapped. Logan tried to tackle him with a roar; he sidestepped neatly and planted a foot on the back of Logan's neck, nearly pinning him. Luckily Logan was strong enough to shake him off (or Scott let him go, it rankled Logan that he couldn't tell which) and Scott stepped away, letting Logan have the space to stand up- a rookie mistake that Logan took advantage of by sweeping his leg around and trying to knock Scott's feet out from under him. It felt approximately like kicking a rock, and Scott's leg didn't go anywhere. He didn't even appear to notice. Instead he reached down, grabbed Logan's ankle, and twisted it sharply. Logan froze; it hurt too much to do anything else.

After a second, Scott let go and stepped away again. Logan panted, "What the hell was that?"

"I'll show you, once I'm not too mad to see straight," Scott replied smoothly. Logan shook his head and stood, limping a few steps until the damage was repaired.

"Okay, ready," He said, and this time waited for Scott to come to him. They sized each other up for a few seconds; Logan didn't drop his guard, and Scott gave a single, grudging nod of respect before lunging forward and pummeling Logan from about three inches away. He used his elbows and knees to great effect, and employed a downright scientific throw that landed Logan flat on his back. Logan got one light tap in before he went down; again Scott didn't seem to feel it.

"Jesus," Logan commented thoughtfully. "I think you could beat Mystique mano a mano if you put your mind to it." He staggered to his feet and walked off his injuries- there were a surprising number of fairly serious ones. He was beginning to get a feel for how the kid worked, though. He either fought all the way in or at arm's length. "Okay, ready," He repeated, but wasn't really ready for Scott's sudden attack- from the side. He got in two hits this time, marveling at the kid's speed and agility, before he was thrown again. Scott didn't step away until he'd kicked Logan twice in the ribs; either blow would have been enough to snap multiple ribs in someone without an adamantium laced skeleton. This time when Scott stood back he was breathing hard.

Logan lay still and just breathed for a minute, while Scott clenched and unclenched his fists and slowly calmed down. That had hurt, in a way that mere physical pain couldn't explain. "You okay, kid?" He asked, rolling over onto his side and levering himself slowly to his feet.

"No," Scott snarled. "I need- need some sort of release. This isn't helping enough. I don't want to hurt you." He began pacing while Logan limped a few steps, waiting for everything to heal into working order.

"Well, who do you want to hurt?" Logan asked, watching Scott as someone else might watch a rabid dog. He didn't want to get kicked anymore, and the kid was so- so intense it was unsettling even for Logan, who had the tendency to block out everything else when he was fighting. He didn't sustain that killing rage for long, though apparently Scott did. At least he smelled properly angry now, instead of the cold numb scent he'd had before.

"Damned if I know." Scott lashed out and crashed a fist into a nearby punching bag. He left a dent in the side and the bag swung crazily on its chain. "Maybe myself. Maybe everyone."

"See, I know what your problem is now!" Logan proclaimed. "It's a little something called teenage rebellion-" He got no further before Scott had crossed the room and thrown him again. This time he planted his foot on Logan's windpipe and _leaned_.

"Also, I'm sort of annoyed with your dismissal of my experience and intelligence because of age," Scott commented conversationally. Logan made a choking noise and flailed, before unsheathing his claws. Scott jumped quickly away, and Logan took a few painful breaths, still with his claws exposed. He wasn't taking any more chances.

"You tried to kill me," Logan said, not quite believing the fact even as he said it.

"No, I tried to hurt you. If I wanted you dead, you'd be dead." Scott sighed and tapped his visor. "I wouldn't even need this to kill you; you have plenty of exploitable weak points."

"Excuse me? Weak points?" Logan sat up and cracked his neck. "Listen, kid, I-"

"-I leave myself wide open?" Scott finished for him. "I'm not that good- sure, I'm fast and strong and I've been well-trained, along with coming up with a few of my own tricks, but there's always someone better. Like Mystique." He trotted back over to the punching bag and unleashed a barrage of blows that continued until the bag looked as cratered as the moon. "Your joints are vulnerable, for example, and your air supply. Also, your eyes."

"My eyes?" Logan retracted his claws and felt carefully around his throat. It seemed there was no lasting damage. "What about my eyes?"

"Your eyes are a direct path to your brain," Scott lectured, giving the punching bag one solid kick. The chain suspending it snapped, and it went flying into the wall with a dull thud. Scott sighed, "That's the third time this week I've broken the bag... Your brain, presumably, can't regenerate itself entirely. All anyone would have to do is shoot you directly in the eye to enter your adamantium skull, and the bullet would ricochet inside, liquidizing your brain and either killing you or disabling you significantly. I don't know if snapping your neck would be effective, since your vertebra are covered too-"

"That's really... creepy," Logan interrupted. "Do you spend your time plotting how to take down everyone you meet?"

"Well, yes," Scott said, as if it should be obvious. And maybe it should have been.

"Jesus." Logan staggered to his feet again. "I think I'll need a drink when we're done."

"Aren't we done already?" Scott asked, faintly surprised.

"Hell no, I'm just getting warmed up." Logan cracked his neck again and settled into a stance. "Let's hear some more about these alleged weak points of mine while we're at it."

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"What, my word isn't good enough?" Logan teased as he stepped out of the Danger Room. "You have to see for yourself-"

"Well, it is more or less my job," Scott pointed out in a slightly muffled voice while drying his face off. He'd emptied his water bottle over his head; the water had rinsed off a lot of the blood from the deep scratches on his chest. "I am the leader of the X-men. I'm sure even you have noticed by now that people usually do what I tell them. And if I take Rogue, or Bobby, onto the team I'll need to examine them myself, not just take your word for it that they're ready. Nothing personal."

"You two look like you've been in a war," Xavier commented, rolling up the hallway to meet them. "However, I see you haven't yet killed each other."

"The Boy Scout here couldn't kill me if he tried," Logan boasted. "He may be fast and smart and whatever, but he hasn't got the experience. And he's not blooded."

"That's because I'm good enough that I don't need to kill." Scott backhanded Logan lightly in the chest without removing the towel from his face. "And I seem to be plenty blooded already. All over the floor, in fact."

"It's not my fault you walked into my claws-" Logan began to protest.

"Tell it to the Marines. You were going to pin me and I got out of it." Scott tossed the towel at Logan and slid his visor back on.

"I think maybe you ought to talk to the kid about those self-destructive tendencies." Logan half-joked to Xavier.

"My most self-destructive act is denying myself the right to throw you out on your ear," Scott shot back. Then he added thoughtfully, "and possibly trying to clean the boys' locker room."

Logan gazed at Scott with an awe that was (mostly) unfeigned. "You tried to clean the boys' locker room? Quick, Wheels, lock away all the knives and cleaning supplies! He's suicidal!"

Scott snorted and limped along the hallway, holding onto the wall. "To be or not to be?" He called over his shoulder. "That is the question." He entered the infirmary and began laying out tape and gauze bandages.

"That really is- a great deal better, Logan," Xavier said quietly, smiling after Scott. "I cannot thank you enough."

"He does need to get away, but he won't let himself," Logan replied. "At the very least he needed to beat the snot out of someone, and I won't suffer for it. I'm out of shape, and the kid is good. Very good." He eyed Scott's distant form warily. "There's something dark in him, and at the risk of sounding like a bad Star Wars ripoff I have to say that he's too damn angry, afraid, and mixed up to see straight."

"Jean's death has hit all of us hard, but Scott... he lived for her." Xavier sighed and gripped the arms of his wheelchair. "I cannot help him, as much as I would like- or at all. Perhaps having someone with whom he can commiserate-"

"No, it's not just Jean's death and he isn't going to cry on my shoulder anymore. If he did, I'd shove him off and run like the hounds of hades were on my trail," Logan snapped. "No, he wasn't ready to be a leader and it will always tear him up inside to lead a team of his friends into danger, but he pushed himself into it, because he knows he's the best you've got. Jean- her dying ripped out the feeble supports he built himself, and now he can't see that it wasn't his fault. Or that he's the best damn leader I've ever seen. That's saying something; I've been in the military and I know what leadership ought to be. The kid has it." Logan shook his head, still amazed at the fact.

"The kid has it," he repeated himself. "I just know I'm going to slip up and call him sir, and then I'll never hear the end of it." He nodded to Xavier, ambled along the hallway, wincing occasionally as his bruises healed themselves, and threw a handy roll of tape at Scott, who retaliated with a well-placed bottle of liniment.

Xavier watched as Logan efficiently distracted Scott (and himself) from the Jean's ghost in the infirmary. He smiled again and rolled away, for once simply enjoying the chaos behind him instead of entreating the men to act their age and set a good example for the children. Perhaps this was a good example?

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The next day at breakfast, Logan alternately prodded Scott into eating and made obscene noises over his pancakes (sure, they were good, but not _that_ good) until Scott emptied the saltshaker into his orange juice without his noticing. It signaled the beginning of a beautiful friendship- well, actually it signaled that Scott was starting to heal and that Logan was probably planning to stick around for a while. Scott and Logan weren't friends at all. Ever.


End file.
